


Feels Like Home

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Post Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sereda shows Zevran a secret part of Orzammar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Home

Sereda nudges Zevran awake one night.  She’s been staring at the ceiling forever, and she’s  _ bored _ .  It’s not like they have to constantly be on alert anymore, even if Orzammar isn’t exactly safe for them.  That’s nothing new, though, and this is honestly the closest to a vacation that they’ve ever gotten.  

Zevran makes a slightly startled noise as he sits up, but Sereda soothes him with a touch and a soft noise.  

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” Zevran asks.

His grin is wicked in the soft firelight.

“Not that,” Sereda says, giggling a little.  “How would you like to see part of Orzammar that very few people ever have?”

“The soft skin of your thighs?” Zevran says.  

“I said very few people, Zevran.  Not a decent chunk of the Orzammar nobility and various others,” Sereda says.  “Even Alistair has seen my thighs, albeit in a different context.”

Zevran chuckles a little.  “An excellent point.  What do you want to show me?”

Sereda gets up and pulls on her dressing gown.  “Put something on and let’s go.”

Zevran stretches before grabbing one of her dressing gowns.  It’s absolutely obscene on him, hanging open to expose his chest and so short that she can see most of his thigh.  Ah well, it’s night and no one else will be out.  

Sereda laughs as her fingers slide between his easily.  “So, House Aeducan has had control of the throne- and this palace- for over three hundred years.  In that time, we’ve made a few… adjustments to the place.”

“Oh?” Zevran asks.  “Such as?”

Sereda grins and leads him out to the hall.  They creep silently until they reach the spot.  It doesn’t look different than any other stretch of wall, but Sereda knows.  

“As far as I know, no one born on the surface has ever seen this,” Sereda whispers.  Bhelen’s room is just down the hall, and they can’t be too careful.

Sereda finds the catch easily, muscle memory still firmly in place.  It slides easily with a soft click.  The space under the engraving opens up, revealing a secret passage.  

* * *

“It was much bigger when I was a kid,” Sereda says as she crawls along the passageway.  

“I’m certainly not complaining,” Zevran says from where he’s crawling behind her.  “Your ass is a work of art that I would follow it anywhere.”

“Glad you’re enjoying the view,” Sereda says.

“Your dressing gown has never looked better,” Zevran says.  “By which I mean that I can see everything.  Every delectable inch of skin.”

Sereda groans.  “You’re tempting me to stop moving.”

“Trapping me here with nowhere to go but between your legs, hm?  I certainly don’t know how to get out of here without you,” Zevran murmurs.

Sereda can feel herself blushing, and she’s glad that Zevran can’t see her face, at least.  She keeps going without a word because the last thing she needs is him making her weak in the knees and elbows.  

The ceiling starts to get higher, and soon Sereda can walk comfortably on her own two feet.  She turns around and walks backward, looking down at where Zevran is still on his hand and knees.  

“Sorry,” Sereda apologizes.  “We’ll take a different route back, and you should be able to stand upright.  I think.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Zevran says, grinning up at her.  “The view is still delightful, and I’ve crawled through much worse places.  At least no one is pointing sharp knives at us, yes?”

“The night is still young,” Sereda says.  “I’ve learned to always prepare for people trying to kill us.”

Zevran chuckles.  “Excellent point, my dear Warden.”

Sereda keeps walking backwards, smiling down at Zevran.  He’s looking her up and down in a way that makes her positively tingly.  It’s unfair that he looks so good crawling like this.  They are definitely not going to get anymore sleep tonight.

She can feel deep in her bones that they’re reaching the end of the tunnel.  Every time she comes to Orzammar, Sereda worries that she won’t have her Stone Sense, but so far, she feels like her old self whenever they’re here.  It’s comforting. 

Another minute and they’re in a tall chamber, and Zevran is on his feet again.  There are a couple other tunnels out of this chamber, but Sereda ignores them for the column in the middle.  It goes straight up, with handholds cut deep into the stone.

“I’ll go first so you can enjoy yourself,” Sereda says.  “Also,  you can only use every second handhold.”

“And why is that?” Zevran asks.  

Sereda shrugs, spinning around lightly to smile up at him.  “I dunno.  That’s how we always did it, though.  We liked making up our own dumb rules.”

“Then I will be careful to avoid every second step,” Zevran says with an indulgent smile.

Sereda spins back to face the ladder.  She starts her climb, enjoying the strain as she pulls herself higher.  It’s been so long since she’s climbed in these secret passages, and it makes her feel gloriously alive.  What’s better is showing this to Zevran.  She never anticipated loving someone so much that she’d be willing to show them this little secret, but Ancestors, she’d show Zevran anything without a second thought.  

It’s a ten minute climb straight up, and she pulls herself over the edge with a happy sigh.  Sereda leans over to give Zevran a hand up, mostly because she knows he enjoys how strong she is.  In another second, they’re both sitting with their legs dangling over the edge.  

“That’s quite the climb,” Zevran says, leaning against her.  

“We could climb all the way to the surface,” Sereda says, nodding towards another column.  “The thought being that if the darkspawn ever overran Orzammar, at least the royal family could flee to safety.  Same if we fell violently out of favor.”

“These tunnels aren’t just rarely seen, but very few people even know about them, yes?” Zevran says.

“Of course not.  We can’t admit that Orzammar is remotely in danger. That’s not our way,” Sereda says, flashing him a grin.  Truthfully, thinking of Orzammar’s vulnerability makes her a little ill, too.  “We really weren’t supposed to play in here, but the three of us did anyway.”

“Ah, you were a wild, rebellious child,” Zevran says.

“Hardly,” Sereda says.  “But I haven’t shown you the best part yet.”

She pulls her legs back away from the edge and turns to crawl.  There’s enough room to stand, but it’s not far.  It reminds her of being a little kid, back when she was both so carefree and still felt the weight of Orzammar on her young shoulders.  Some things never change. They just get bigger.  

The scraping across the floor behind her indicates that Zevran has elected to crawl, too.  It's a nice touch.  

They reach a wall and Sereda runs her hand along it, looking for the catch.  When she hears the familiar click, she pulls the window open.  It’s just about big enough for three young faces to peer out, pressed together.  There’s plenty of room for both her and Zevran, but their cheeks end up pressed together anyway.  

Zevran’s gentle gasp is gratifying.  The city of Orzammar is sprawled out before them, lit by fire and lava.  There’s the heavy smoke from the smith caste, and the gorgeous spread of the Diamond Quarter.  Dust Town is hazy in the distance, as far away from the palace as possible.  This is the place that used to be her home, her beautiful home, lit by lava.

Now her home is sitting beside her, an elf instead of a city.  This is better, but that doesn’t mean that she never feels pangs of longing for what she’s lost.

“What’s this?” Zevran asks, pointing at carvings above the window.  

Sereda smiles, a little sad.  She reaches out and traces over the names.   _ Trian Ree + Bhelen _ .  Ancestors, she misses her brothers, at least how they were back then.  

“The last night we came up here, the three of us carved our names into the stone,” Sereda says.  “Years and years ago, when we thought that the three of us would do great things for Orzammar together.  We figured that one day, our descendants would find it and marvel.  The great King, the daring commander, and the clever deshyr.”

“You stopped coming up here?” Zevran asks.  “I must say, I’m surprised.”

Sereda sighs softly, taking in the sight of her city.  “It was the night before Trian was officially crowned heir.  I was fifteen.  Everything changed after that.  It didn’t feel right coming up here by myself, and there wasn’t anyone I wanted to share this with until you.”

Zevran wraps his arm around her.  “I am honored, Sereda.”

Sereda leans against him, enjoying the warmth of his body against hers.  She rests her hand on his thigh and rubs gently.

“This last year could have easily been miserable and terrible.  It probably should have been, considering, well, everything that happened.  But you were there, with your jokes and your flirtation and your keen insight.  You always knew when I needed you to explain something, and you were so understanding when I refused to tell you anything about myself,” Sereda says softly.  “You’re like a light, Zevran.  Just being near you makes me feel things I never thought I would.  My heart still races when you smile at me.  If I didn’t know you loved me, too, you would make me feel like a fool.”

Zevran rubs her back, shaking just the barest amount.  He’s silent, and she understands.  Some things are still too much to say.  Some things are still so much to hear.  

“I know Bhelen says cruel things to you when I’m out of earshot, and I’m certain others do, too.  And I know you don’t say anything because you know how distressed I usually am in Orzammar, but I want you to know that you are the best part of my life.  Always.  All the pain and hurt is worth it for me, because without it, I never would have found you,” Sereda says.  

She tilts her face upwards to look at him.  There are tears welling up in his eyes, and when he blinks, they spill over onto her cheek.  

“You helped me gain my freedom from the Crows, and what I want to do most with it is to be with you,” Zevran murmurs, brushing his tears away.  “And for a long time I too felt like a fool.”

“If you ever want to do something else with your freedom-”

“I won’t,” Zevran says seriously.  He cups her cheek,  “I will always choose you, Sereda.”

“But  _ if _ ,” Sereda presses.  “I never want to become another cage for you.”

“I understand,” Zevran says, kissing her forehead.  “And, should the highly unexpected happen, I promise to leave.”

“Good.”

“But!  I can’t see that happening,” Zevran reassures her.  “You are the only person I want to be with.”

“My sweet, sweet Zevran,” Sereda says, brushing her fingers through his hair.  “We could sit up here for hours and just watch the city come alive.  Or else ignore the city completely.  All hidden completely from view.  It’s all up to us.”

Zevran smiles and looks out over the city.  “You are the most beautiful sight in Orzammar, of course, but I treasure this view right now.  It’s a great gift.”

It’s good to be understood, Sereda thinks as she leans against him.  It’s so good to be understood and loved completely.  

* * *

“This is also a pretty good view,” Sereda says, looking up Zevran’s dressing gown as they climb down the ladder.  “Have I told you that you have an ass finer than anything my people have ever sculpted?”

“You don’t often compliment anything more highly than your people’s skill with stone,” Zevran says, sounding both teasing and genuinely flattered.  

“There aren’t many things finer.  Dwarves are  _ very _ good with stone,” Sereda says.  

“I know; I’ve seen your statue in the Hall of Heroes.  Future generations are lucky that your beauty has been preserved so accurately by such talented artisans,” Zevran says.  “Not quite as good as the real thing, of course, but still impressive.”

When they reach the bottom, Sereda takes his hand in hers and leads him down a side passage.  This time, there's enough room for him to stand upright, even if he has to walk behind her.  

“We have to do this next part quickly,” Sereda says when they finally near the end of the tunnel.  “Or else you could lose a foot, or so Father claimed.”

“Everything is delightfully dangerous in Orzammar, I’ve noticed,” Zevran says.

“Yeah,” Sereda says affectionately.  

They round the corner and come to a dead end.  She sweeps her eyes over the wall, trying to remember where the catches are.  

“Everything alright?” Zevran asks.

“I’ve got to remember the combination to this one,” Sereda says.

Zevran responds by crouching down and wrapping his arms around her, sliding his hands into her dressing gown.  He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to her neck, which makes Sereda groan and press back against him.

“You’re not helping with my concentration,” Sereda says, voice breathy.  “You’re really not helping.”

Zevran chuckles in her ear.  “I have full faith in you.”

Sereda groans again as his fingers skirt lower.  “You’re going to end up locked in these tunnels forever.”

“As long as you’re here, I’ll risk it,” Zevran murmurs.  

To her credit, Sereda does remember the right combination to the door, and it slides open.  She darts inside, pulling Zevran along with her as the door grinds shut automatically.  

The room is smaller than she remembers, only a few feet wide, so they’re pressed against each other.  There’s no source of light, but she can imagine Zevran’s grin.

“This is an interesting room,” Zevran says.  

“It’s to hide from assassins and kidnappers,” Sereda says.  

“It doesn’t seem to be serving its purpose, then,” Zevran points out.

“Specifically, assassins and kidnappers who mean me harm,” Sereda amends.

Sereda slides her hand up Zevran’s thigh to tease him before finding the catch to get into her bedroom.  She pulls Zevran into her room, surprised that he’s not smiling down at her.  

“We’re back in my room.  Where my bed is.  Why don’t you look happy?” Sereda asks.

“If Bhelen tries to kill you, this would be an excellent way to enter your room,” Zevran says.  

“Nobody else knows the combination to get into the mini room.  My brothers and I all picked our own, and the dwarves who installed them were exiled afterwards.  Not even my father could break into it,” Sereda says, squeezing his hand.  “Bhelen would have to track them down and hope they remember.  There are easier ways to kill me- and that’s not even advantageous for him anymore.”

“So not a security threat, then,” Zevran says, not sounding convinced.

“They were built after some, ah, unpleasantness affected my family,” Sereda says with a shrug.  

Zevran tilts his head, examining her.  “What kind of unpleasantness?”

Sereda sighs and stretches, pacing.  These are largely unpleasant memories, and even if they don’t bother her like they used to, Sereda still doesn’t want to get into the details.  

“Mother’s death.  Some assassination attempts.  Some kidnapping,” Sereda says.  Some torture, although she doesn’t want to bring that up.  “As unbelievable as it is given our dazzling personalities, my family has enemies.”

It’s supposed to be funny- they poke fun at Bhelen all the time and everyone knows Trian was a jerk, even Zevran-, except Zevran isn’t laughing.  

“Are these enemies of yours still around?” Zevran asks.

“None of them are threats anymore,” Sereda says.  “Most of them died screaming.”

“Good,” Zevran says, and Sereda is impressed with the sheer amount of anger that he can fit into one syllable.  

Sereda pushes him gently towards the bed, giving him an extra nudge to encourage him to sit down.  He sits with a soft thud, and Sereda positions herself between his legs.  

“You’re upset,” Sereda says.

“I don’t like to think of anyone harming you,” Zevran says.  “Part of me wishes that I could kill them myself.”

“I understand.  I quite look forward to helping you kill the Crows who hurt you,” Sereda says, brushing her fingers along his jawline.  Her beautiful, brave assassin.  “But it happened, and it’s fine.   _ I’m  _ fine.  And like I said earlier, all the pain has been worth it.”

“Should anyone hurt you again-”

“I know that they will regret it,” Sereda finishes for him.  

“For the rest of their very short lives,” Zevran says firmly.

“And our lives will be long and wonderful,” Sereda says just as firmly.

Zevran smiles, bright and happy, and it makes her heart beat so fast.  On impulse, Sereda takes his wrist and puts his hand over her heart so he can feel it.  The tips of his ears turn pink as he looks at her with disbelief.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Sereda says softly.

“I should have known,” Zevran murmurs.

Sereda drapes her arms around his shoulders and his hand lingers on her chest.  “I feel like a fool.  But a happy, beloved fool.”

“Now, about the silky smooth skin of your thighs…” Zevran says in a low voice.  

“I think that can be arranged,” Sereda says, pulling at the strings of her dressing gown.  

Zevran laughs and kisses her deeply.  He makes her head spin pleasantly as she presses herself against him.  It is so good to be home.


End file.
